L is for Larry
by Jelsemium
Summary: Larry and Megan meet for lunch. Yes, another from the 2006 Alphabet Fiction challenge. It's a follow up, of sorts, to M is for Megan.


L is for Larry

(A follow up to M is for Megan)

Dedicated to StatsGrandma, yo.

Based on a true story.

Professor Lawrence Fleinhardt was old-fashioned in many way. Naturally, he rose to his feet when he saw Special Agent Megan Reeves approaching his table.

The profiler wasn't dressed fancily, just a plain blue suit with a white blouse, a suitable outfit for appearing before a jury as arresting agent. However, she looked better to Larry than any Versace clad actress ever had.

"Ah, Agent Reeves, so glad you could join me for lunch," he said as he held her chair for her.

"Thank you, Professor Fleinhardt," she smiled as she settled herself. "It was sweet of you to ask." She looked around the crowded restaurant. "And even nicer that you were able to hold a table this long. Restaurants near the courthouse are usually packed at this time."

Larry beamed and ran a hand through his pale curls. "The pleasure is all mine, believe me. How much time do you have?" He held his hand and an attentive waiter materialized with a menu.

"I have an hour an a half for lunch," she said as she checked her watch. "And even then, I might not get called in to testify." "I'll have iced tea, thank you," Megan said to the waiter.

The waiter dematerialized.

"Good service in this place," Megan observed, smiling.

"I suspect the loveliness of the patron had something to do with that," Larry said warmly.

Megan ducked her head and fiddled with her napkin and Larry wondered if he'd overstepped himself.

"Thank you," she regained her composure and looked around. "How are the salads here?" she asked.

"Their Greek salad is excellent," Larry replied. "As is their Thai Chicken with Peanut Sauce."

They both opted for the Thai Chicken.

"So, how's Charlie?" Megan said. "He been keepin' off that ankle?"

"Ah, it's healing nicely, thank you," Larry said. "Most of his exercise this weekend has consisted of climbing the walls."

Megan sniggered. "Let me guess, his father won't let him work?"

Larry shook his head. "Oh, Alan will let him work…. It's just that Charlie is not permitted to work in the garage."

Megan raised her eyebrows.

"He tends to think on his feet," Larry explained.

"Ah," Megan smirked. She could easily picture Charlie pacing as he explained some esoteric math concept and how it applied to crime fighting.

"And how are your colleagues?" Larry asked.

"Fine, except Colby's rather bummed out that the guy who attacked him wasn't even the suspected serial killer we'd been trolling for. David and Terry picked him up."

"Oh, my," Larry said. "So Agent Granger was attacked by a … common mugger?"

The blonde agent looked amused. "Bruised his ego a bit, I'm tellin' ya. Meanwhile, David's been keepin' busy at that community center. Terry's still debating remarrying her ex. And…" she paused and frowned. "We think Don might have a new girlfriend, but he hasn't said anything to us."

Larry raised a nearly colorless eyebrow. "And how did you arrive at this conclusion?"

Megan shrugged. "Well, he's been wearing new shirts, nicer ties. Plus, he's been leavin' the office before the cleaning crew arrives."

Larry tapped his finger against his lower lip. "Ah, I must concur with your conclusion. Especially as Charles has mentioned that the frequency of Don's visits to the Craftsman has declined. However, I am not the one to query regarding changes in Don's behavior."

Megan sighed. "I know, I suppose we'll just have to try to pry it out of him."

Larry blinked. "Oh, that might work," he said in surprise.

Megan tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

Larry smiled sheepishly. "I was thinking more of asking Alan," he admitted.

Megan chuckled. "I like it. There's a definite advantage to bein' in the _suspect's_ father's good graces."

Larry smiled. Then he cocked his head and examined his companion. "Speaking of new clothing, I see your blouse is sparkling white. Is that a new one or did you manage to undo the effects of the red t-shirt?"

Megan looked at her blouse. "This is a new blouse. However, the rest of the whites have been salvaged, thanks to a trick Mr. Eppes told me about," she said. "He says that between Don's sports activities and Charlie's (she paused to imitate Alan's delivery) _scientific experiments_, he had to learn Advanced Laundry in self -defense."

Larry chuckled. "I can see how those two would push the envelope of laundering," he said. "How is the court case coming?"

Megan shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, it's all 'hurry up and wait.'"

Larry sighed. "Yes, I understand that." He paused. "I was wondering if you would be interested in attending the Muckenthaler Motor Car Festival with me next month?"

Megan's eyes lit up. "Ooo, yes, please. Just the thought of all those wonderful antique cars is enough to whet my appetite."

On cue, their salads arrived.

Megan flashed a smile at the waiter, and Larry could have sworn that the man floated back to the kitchen.

"Do you enter your car in competition?" Megan asked.

"Oh, no," Larry sighed. "My poor car no longer qualifies. She's been… adulterated."

Megan blinked. Then the smile came back as she mentally translated. "You mean that Charlie persuaded you to put seatbelts in."

"Ah, yes," Larry said. "Charles and Amita ganged up on me, so to speak. Charles used his command of statistics and Amita used more … emotional persuasion."

Actually, Amita had poignantly described how Megan would weep at his funeral. However, he didn't feel comfortable bringing up that image.

"Did you install the seat belts yourself?" Megan asked.

"Charles and I did the work, yes,' Larry said.

Megan raised her eyebrow.

"You look surprised, my dear," Larry said. "Did you think that because we are academics, that Charles and I were completely helpless when it came to hands on applications?"

Megan giggled. "Well, no," she said. "I was just surprised that you would let anybody else touch your precious car."

Larry grinned. "Well, there's that, but this did require two sets of hands."

"Was it very difficult?" Megan asked, after taking a forkful of salad.

"Oh, not at all," Larry said. "Well, it wasn't with the two of us working on it. We actually had more trouble installing the gas gauge."

"You put in a new gas gauge?" Megan asked, impressed.

"Ah, yes, the gas gauge kept malfunctioning," Larry sighed. "It was quite embarrassing to continually have to walk to a pay phone to call for assistance."

Megan grinned.

"And, no, that hasn't changed my mind about cell phones," Larry said, waving his finger at her. "They are much too intrusive."

Megan held her hands up in a surrender gesture. "I am not disagreeing with you," she said. "I've cursed mine on many occasions."

Larry sipped at his tea and Megan watched him, head tilted to one side curiously.

"What?" Larry asked. "Do I have food stuck to my teeth?"

Megan shook her head. "I was just wondering what made the gas gauge trickier than the seat belts."

Larry smirked slightly. "Well, the seat belts required a certain amount of brute force. The gas gauge is more… delicate. But the trouble actually started with the purchase of the gauge."

Megan looked attentive.

"You see, I'd given in on the matter of the seatbelts, so I was very particular about what kind of gas gauge I was going to install."

Megan nodded and sipped her drink.

Larry found himself envying her glass.

"You wanted it to be authentic," Megan prompted.

Larry nodded vigorously. "I wanted a gas gauge meant, not just for a Model A, but for the particular body style of my car." He paused and finished his tea. "Oh, and I wanted the gauge to actually have been made in 1931."

Megan laughed silently into her tea. "Oh, Charlie must have loved that!"

"Oh, he complained indeed," Larry said. "That boy has _never_ been shy about expressing his opinions."

"I take it you didn't find what you wanted?"

"Oh, we found one," Larry said. "At a specialty shop in Anaheim. The next trial came when we attempted to install it…" He tilted his head. "Have you ever installed a gas gauge, Agent Reeves?"

Megan shook her head, causing her brown hair to shimmer. "No, I actually missed out on that particular joy, Professor."

Larry let out a woof of laughter. "Oh, I can think of a lot of words to describe the experience, Agent Reeves, but 'joy' is definitely an antonym. It's tedious, awkward work threading the leads from the tank to the dashboard."

Megan smiled and Larry could feel waves of envy radiating off the other male diners. Even some of the ones who had dates.

"Well, Charles and I started bright and early in the morning," Larry continued. "It took us two and one eighth hours of fiddling and sweating to get the gauge connected. When we finished, I turned on the ignition. We looked at the needle expectantly and… nothing happened."

"Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes, the needle refused to budge from its original resting place. Charles opined that the gauge was past its useful life span, which is why we found it in an antique store rather than an automobile parts store. I, however, was certain that we had made an error in the process of installing it."

"So, then what? You took it out and tried again?" Megan guessed.

Larry nodded. He surveyed their plates and discerned that both had finished. "Can I offer you some dessert, Agent Reeves? They serve an excellent cheesecake here… or flan, if you would rather."

Megan shook her head. "I'd better not," she said. "I have to get back to court and I can't risk falling asleep if I get on the witness stand."

Larry smiled and signaled for the check.

"Don't let me stop you, Professor," Megan protested.

"I'd better not," Larry said regretfully. "I'm at the age when I need to watch what I eat." He shook his head and returned to the story. "Anyway, we went through the whole delicate process in reverse to _remove_ the gauge, tested the gauge… for the second time, in case I didn't mention that we had tested it before installing it… Then we _reinstalled_ it."

"It still didn't work?" Megan asked, gathering her things and standing.

Larry paid the check; Megan never even got a glimpse of it.

"No, the needle refused to so much as quiver," he sighed. "I had to concede that Charles contention that the gauge was defective was probably correct. So, we removed the gauge for the second time, repacked it and prepared to return it to the shop."

They headed for the door and Larry let out a bark of laughter. "Only then we encountered yet another problem."

"Which was?" Megan asked, throwing a curious look over her shoulder.

"My car was out of gas."

Megan stared for a few moments, and then started to laugh. "You mean the gas gauge…"

"Didn't register anything because there was nothing in the gas tank to register," Larry said ruefully. "I must have arrived home just as my tank went dry."

"Oh, no!" A sudden thought struck her and she added. "Charlie wasn't doing all this on his sprained ankle, was he?"

"Oh, no, this was the week before that particular incident," Larry said.

"So, you had to install the gas gauge _again_?"

"Well, the third time is the charm, they say. Once all the swearing and admittedly hysterical laughing stopped, we managed to get the gauge in place relatively quickly." Larry smirked.

Megan noted the 'relatively', but did not comment on that.

"And once we actually put gasoline in the tank, it worked splendidly," Larry added with a smile. "Speaking of my automobile, how did you get to the restaurant?"

Megan beamed. "I took a cab," she said with anticipation.

"Then may I offer you a lift back to the courthouse?"

"I was hopin' you'd ask," Megan replied.

She took his proffered arm and they strolled down the street to his Model A.

HR 

Author's note 1: I put Terry in because I didn't want to invent a new female partner for David. So this is officially AU.

Author's note 2: The gas gauge story was lifted from my dad and Uncle John. No, the car wasn't a Model A.

Author's note 3: I'm so proud of the fact that I spelled poignantly correctly. (On the first try!)

Author's note 4: This is set before Season Three and therefore, before Larry acquired a cell phone.


End file.
